


Taste of Home

by girl_wonder



Category: Idlewild (2006)
Genre: Character of Color, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-15
Updated: 2010-12-15
Packaged: 2017-10-13 16:40:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/139411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/girl_wonder/pseuds/girl_wonder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Six recipes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Taste of Home

**Author's Note:**

  * For [maggie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/maggie/gifts).



> Thanks so, so much to innie_darling. This fic would not be as good without her influence.
> 
> I'm going to steal my recipient's standard disclaimer and say: if i have written something problematic/oppressive to a marginalized group that you find hurtful, please please please don't think twice about telling me. i will never spew hate at you, will never attack you, and i will always thank you and make the change.

_Shepherd's Pie_

 **Ingredients:**  
1-1/2 to 2 pounds potatoes, peeled and quartered  
1/2 stick butter (4 tablespoons)  
1 pound ground beef  
1 medium onion, finely chopped  
1 garlic clove, minced  
1/2 cup beef broth  
1/4 cup cold milk  
2 tablespoons cornstarch  
2 teaspoon Worcestershire sauce  
3 cups chopped carrots and corn  
salt and pepper to taste  
cheese

 **  
**Directions:**   
_In a large pot, boil potatoes over medium-high heat until tender. Remove pot from heat and drain off water. Mash potatoes with butter, add salt and pepper to taste._   
**

_Saute onions and beef until fully cooked, then remove from heat._

Zora's mother has her clean and pressed and ready. She had made Zora scrub behind her ears until the skin felt red and raw. Zora and her sister had used a bucket in the kitchen as their mother had stood over the stove, watching the beef, checking the potatoes.

Zora could taste the frying onions on the back of her tongue already.

 _In a saucepan, bring Worcestershire sauce and beef broth to a boil. Add in a mixture of milk and cornstarch to make gravy. When gravy thickens, remove from heat._

 _In a casserole dish, place beef mixture in bottom, then layer first with mixed vegetables, second with gravy, third with mashed potatoes._

By the time she had tied the bow at the back of her sister's dress, her mother had the pie in the oven.

"Zora," her mother's voice carried. "You stop dawdling and get over here."

Zora knelt, bare knees on the kitchen floor , so that her pale pink dress wouldn't get dirty. Her feet began to hurt after only a few minutes as her mother worked at her hair, comb tugging through the tangles.

The kitchen still smelled like onion and beef, faintly of butter and salt under that.

"Alright," her mother said, tugging the braid straight. "Get your sister in here. And check that pie."

As she worked on Pearl's hair, her mother grumbled, "Just like that old coot to go and die on us during the busiest season."

Zora wrapped her hands in the kitchen towel and took the pie off the heat, putting it to the side. She wanted to try it, but knew well enough how her mother would react to that.

"Alright," her mother frowned, tugging a curl away from Pearl's eyes. "Let's get moving."

She took off her apron, and underneath was her dark dress, her black funeral dress. She frowned at the two of them.

"Shoes on, girls. I'll be starting the car."

The drive to the funeral home was short and there were already cars out in front when her mother parked. She took one look at Zora and Pearl then nodded.

"Zora, get the pie," her mother said, sweeping out of the car.

Zora held it carefully, not wanting any on her dress. Brand new, and first use was for a funeral. That had to be bad luck, she figured.

At the back of the funeral home, Miss Belle was arranging platters of cut meat and casseroles.

"Momma made shepherd's pie," Zora said, pausing near the long table filled with food.

Miss Belle looked at it with a sniff and a slight frown.

"Put it over there and hurry not to be late for the service."

"Yes, ma'am." Zora bit the side of her cheek and put it next to a bowl of collard greens.

She was halfway to the viewing when she saw Percival. He smiled, shy, and looked down when she caught his eyes.

"Don't worry about her," he said softly. "She's just being Aunt Belle."

"I don't," Zora said quickly. "It's a perfectly good pie."

Percival glanced at her and said quietly, "She's just mad because she made the same thing."

"My momma's is better," Zora said.

Grinning, Percival nodded to the carpet. "I know."

"Zora," her mother hissed and Zora tripped over herself on the way to sit down.

Later, Percy helped himself to seconds of her momma's shepherd's pie and Zora pretended to ignore Miss Belle.

*****

 _Homestyle Drop Biscuits_  
 **Ingredients:**  
1 cup flour  
1 1/2 teaspoon baking powder  
pinch of salt  
1/2 cup milk  
1 teaspoon butter

 _In a bowl, combine flour, baking soda, and salt. Mix together the milk and melted butter, then stir into the dry ingredients until just mixed._

 _Drop by spoonfuls onto a baking sheet. Bake for 10-12 minutes until brown._

She had spent most of the morning baking in the kitchen as her mother pressed their dresses, finished shaping their hats. It would be hot under the revival tent, and her thin, white cotton dress would help her survive until dark.

When they arrived, they were crisp and perfect, carrying baskets full of biscuits. The biscuits were still warm; she could smell the fresh scent of baked flour when she approached the food table. Under her white gloves, she had remnants of dough under her fingernails.

"Are those some of your fine biscuits, Miss Zora?" Reverend Grant was the type of man who'd remember your cooking before your church attendance. "Definitely a highlight of last year's revival."

Zora smiled, pleasantly, aware of the slight wet feel of sweat at her hairline. It was going to be a scorcher.

"Yes, sir," she said. "Spent all morning making them."

Reverend Grant reached in and pulled a biscuit out of the basket in her arms. He bit in, getting crumbs on his red tie, but he grinned. Biscuits should taste fluffy and light, if you beat the batter too much, they tasted too much like thick flour. Zora was always careful about that.

"These are better than I remember, Miss Zora."

"Thank you," she said, putting the basket down on the table.

She let her momma choose their seats, towards the front where their stylish hats, now with small netted veils, could be seen, but far enough back where they could see other people, too. Pearl handed her a paper fan and Zora sighed in relief.

"I swear, they hold these on the hottest days of the year, just so that those old biddies can see which of us sweats the most," Zora said. She shared a contemptuous look with Pearl when they saw Marianne Mallory walk in on the arm of one of those flashy, bootlegging boys.

"I bet he doesn't even stay for the revue," Pearl whispered behind her fan. "Not if all he's staying for is that old summer dress she's in."

"Be nice," Zora said, equally soft. "Maybe he thinks she's funny."

 **Gravy:**  
1/2 pound pork sausage  
1 tablespoon butter  
2 cups milk  
pinch of salt, pinch of pepper

 **Directions:**   
_In a saucepan, cook the sausage until no longer pink. Stir in butter until melted. Sprinkle with flour. Gradually stir in milk, salt, and pepper. Bring to a boil, cook and stir for 2 minutes._

 _Serve over biscuits._

The sermon was short and to the point, and by the time everyone was settled and eating, she found that she had Pearl on one side and the flashy bootlegger on the other.

"I'm Rooster," he said, grinning. "And you're delighted to meet me."

He'd taken off his jacket, like most of the other men, and sweat stained a line down his back. She knew she was probably looking a bit damp herself, but that didn't stop her from looking at him appraisingly.

"I don't talk to men named after farm animals," Zora said. "And definitely not men who've got their cuffs in my gravy."

He swore loudly and she turned to Anna Marie next to her, talking pointedly about the performances they'd have this afternoon. When she looked back, he was gone and so was Marianne.

After all the eating was done, and they'd settled back down to watch the performances, she saw Percival up on stage. She waved, friendly, and he ducked his head, smiled at his feet.

"I swear that boy is slow," Pearl said in her ear.

"Just shy," Zora corrected.

Then Percy was at the piano and Rooster was strutting up on stage, saying, "How y'all doing" and "Are you ready for this?"

Rooster was definitely not a good description of his voice, which came out smooth and fluid, like listening to the hymn sung by a chorus of angels. When it came time to join in, she was grinning right up until he smirked at her.

"I think he likes you more than Marianne," Pearl said, her fan swaying lazily to hide her mouth.

"Well, he can go on liking me, but I don't like boys who think they _deserve_ a name like Rooster."

Pearl was still cackling when Rooster offered the two of them a ride home later, and Zora said that if she didn't talk to men named after farm animals she most certainly didn't take _rides_ from them.

They ended up riding with Percival in the hearse, and the ride was quiet.

"Rooster's a good friend," Percival said as the heat died around them. She and Pearl were scrunched together in the front because Pearl refused to sit where dead people were every day.

"Is he now?" Zora asked, surprised. Pearl was drowsing on her shoulder, holding the baskets in her hands.

"Yeah, he is," Percival said.

"So I should accept a ride next time?" Zora asked.

"Well," Percy paused, then looked at her out of the corner of his eye. "Maybe make him work for it a little more."

*****

 _Fried Green Tomatoes_  
 **Ingredients:**  
4 to 6 green tomatoes  
salt and pepper  
cornmeal  
bacon grease

 **Directions:**   
_Slice the tomatoes into thick slices. Salt and pepper them to taste. Dip in cornmeal and fry in hot grease until golden on bottom. Gently turn and fry the other side._

"I heard y'all were having a barbeque."

Zora startled at the voice, almost slicing off her thumb. She turned with the knife held threateningly to glare at Rooster, standing innocently behind the screen door.

"How'd you get in here?" she demanded, pointing it at him.

"Pearl let me in," he said, gesturing to where Pearl was shucking corn on the porch.

"Well, you aren't _invited_ ," Zora said, turning back to the cutting board.

"My mother made some cornbread for the event," he said; she could hear the smirk in his voice and turned around to glare.

"You don't have a mother." As soon as she said the words, she felt the bottom of her stomach drop out, because it was true he didn't - Percy said he'd been raised by his uncle and then his uncle's friend - but there was no call to say it like that, no call to say anything at all. And if he didn't have a mother then he'd made the cornbread himself or hired someone to do it for him. Either way, she felt like she'd taken a bath in her own shame.

"I'm so sorry, Rooster," she said, and reached over to open the screen. "Come in. Thank you for the cornbread."

He came in, giving her a nod as thank you. Putting the basket down, he said, "Is that fried green tomatoes I smell?"

"If you're going to show up so early, you might as well help me make them," Zora said stiffly. She nodded at the stove. "Those need to be turned."

The breaded tomatoes fried in thick bacon grease, and she almost couldn't smell that expensive cologne he wore over the aroma of them cooking, but when he brushed by her, she got a whiff and rolled her eyes a little.

"Thank you for inviting me," Rooster said, rolling up his sleeves. His forearms were startlingly strong. She looked back at the tomato she'd started slicing so that she wouldn't stare.

"Invite is a little strong for 'well, you might as well stay.'" Zora breaded a tomato slice and put it in the pan.

He reached onto the plate of finished tomatoes, and bit one in half, his eyes going half lidded. "Best green fried tomatoes I've had in the state."

He reached for another and she slapped the flat side of her knife against his chest. "Don't even think about it, Rooster."

They were still bickering when Pearl came in and said the party was about to get started.

*****

 _Cornmeal Griddle Cakes_  
 **Ingredients:**  
1 cup cornmeal  
1 cup bleached flour  
1 teaspoon salt  
4 teaspoons baking powder  
1 cup melted butter  
1 egg, beaten  
2 1/2 cups milk

 **Directions:**   
_Mix the dry ingredients. Combine the egg and milk, then fold into the dry ingredients, add melted butter. Add more milk, if necessary._

"You are slower than molasses going uphill in _winter_ if you think I'll believe a lie like that one!" Zora yelled. She knew she was waking the whole house, with her luck the whole _neighborhood_ , but it wasn't like people paid attention to her and Rooster because they were boring.

"I swear, Zora," Rooster pleaded. "You know I wouldn't do that, not when you've got more than enough sugar for me."

He tried to approach, do what he always did and sweep it under the rug, but she stepped back and grabbed the first thing on hand, a pitcher full of griddle cake batter. When she threw it, he caught it easily, but the batter ended up covering his whole face and most of his fancy apology suit, too.

"Zora!" he yelled. "This suit cost me _thirty dollars_."

"Well, I hope that she was worth it," Zora hissed, satisfied. "Tellin' me you were talking _music_ at _midnight_ on a _Saturday_."

She picked up the whole bowl full of batter, threatening to throw that as well.

"A Saturday you were too busy to spend with me, mind you," she said, and threw the bowl at him. He narrowly avoided it and the metal bowl clanged where it hit the wall.

"Will the two of you _shut it_ ," Pearl said from the doorway. "Rooster said he was sorry, so either you forgive him or don't, but now he's wearing our breakfast and I sure as hell am not making another batch of batter."

Zora looked at Rooster, standing, covered in beige batter, his whole expression sorry.

"Fine," Zora said. "I'll trust that you and that hussy were just _talkin' music_. God knows why I always believe you."

Rooster smirked, sidling up to her and then reaching to pull her tight against his chest. She made a face at how conveniently her forgiving him ended with her covered in batter, too. He laughed into her mouth.

"You love me," he said.

She rolled her eyes, "Maybe a little."

*****

 _Peach Cobbler_  
 **Ingredients**  
3 cups peeled and sliced fresh peaches  
1/2 cup granulated sugar  
1/4 cup (4 tablespoons) butter cut in small pieces

Crust:  
1 cup all-purpose flour  
2 teaspoons baking powder  
1 tablespoon granulated sugar  
1 teaspoon salt  
1/4 cup (4 tablespoons) butter  
1/2 cup (or less) heavy cream

 **Directions:**   
_Lay sliced fresh peaches in a buttered baking dish. Sprinkle with sugar. Dot with the butter which has been cut into small pieces. For crust, mix together flour, baking powder, 1 tablespoon sugar, and salt. Cut in the remaining 1/4 cup butter. Stir in heavy cream until dough is manageable. Roll dough out on a lightly floured surface; place over sliced peaches. Bake until top is nicely browned._

They'd been careful, sneaking into the orchard after the workers had all gone home, and Rooster had climbed up one of the three-legged picking ladders and come down with a basketful of fresh peaches. Below, Zora spread out the picnic blanket and took out the sandwiches she'd made and the stopped bottle of lemonade.

Rooster drank the lemonade first, like she expected and when he kissed her he tasted sweet and sour at the same time. She made her lemonade more bitter than most girls, the sour barely cut with sugar, but that made everything else taste sweeter. Rooster never seemed to mind.

It was a perfect day, and Zora laughed when Rooster dragged her up, dancing slow with her to a song he was singing.

He dipped her back and then brought her up so that her face pressed close against his chest.

"I want to be with you forever," she said, smiling. "I want to be with you forever, right here."

"I'll buy you this peach orchard, I'll buy you all the peach orchards in Georgia," Rooster promised. "We can get married and build a house right here and have kids running around in the front yard. You can make some of that fabulous peach cobbler every day."

"You mean it?" Zora asked, teasing.

"About buying this orchard? Sure. Every word." He leaned in for another kiss and Zora pushed him back.

"About getting married," she said.

Rooster stepped back and reached into his pocket, pulling out something small, something that fit into his palm. He opened his hand between them. A small, delicate gold ring glinted against his palm.

"I mean it," he said.

"Yes," she said. "Yes."

Later, she looked at the ring on her finger as Pearl squealed and her momma frowned, and thought about peaches.

*****

 _Candied Sweet Potatoes_  
 **Ingredients** :  
6 large sweet potatoes  
1/2 cup butter  
2 cups white sugar  
1 tsp ground cinnamon  
1 tsp ground nutmeg  
1 tbs vanilla extract  
salt to taste

 **Directions:**   
_Peel the sweet potatoes and cut them into slices. Melt the butter in a heavy skillet and add the sliced sweet potatoes. Mix sugar, cinnamon, nutmeg and salt. Cover the sweet potatoes with sugar mixture and stir. Cover skillet, reduce heat to low and cook for about an hour until potatoes are "candied". They should be tender, but a little hard around the edges. Stir in vanilla just before serving hot._

The house wasn't quiet around her, a creak upstairs and the sound of wind whistling through a cracked window. She hummed as she worked, patiently peeling, patiently waiting until the heat was right to add the potatoes.

It was mindless work: candied potatoes were easy enough for her to make, easier than the dinner she'd made two nights ago, before Rooster had left for his "business trip." Like she didn't know that meant he was providing most of the parish with illicit booze.

She hummed the song that Rooster sang when he was doing work around the house.

Of course she'd like to say she knew right away, the way her momma said she'd known about Pearl and Zora, but that'd be a lie. Instead, Zora had known after her second month without a cycle.

She tamped down on the panic in her stomach, stirring the sugar over the potatoes, then covering the pan to simmer. When Rooster came back, she'd tell him, but right now it was just hers, and she savored the idea of something tiny growing in her, something shaped like Rooster and her, maybe with his eyes and her smile, maybe with her temper and Rooster's cockiness.

Testing the potatoes, she took them off the stove and served herself a plate. They were sweet, almost too sweet, but perfect for her mood. She ate them quietly, letting the brown sugar syrup melt onto her tongue as she listened to voices next door and the sound of a record player down the block.

The dark syrup was all that was left behind on the plate and Zora was still staring at the dark window when the car pulled up, when she heard Rooster call a greeting to the neighbors. She knew what would happen next: he'd lick the sugar off her lips, he'd ask what happened, what was wrong because she only made candied sweet potatoes when she was upset and then he'd be happy and then they'd have a baby and then...

She stood up to put the dish in the sink.

*****

end


End file.
